Chronicle Guardian
by AwakeningAngels
Summary: You think that everyone lives a happy-ending fairy tale. You think they have it made for them and everything's perfect, but is it really? Every character faces an obstacle. You'd be surprised by what happens next... Joe's POV; Brittana, Klaine, Quoe, Sugory, Tike, Samcedes, Finchel, and Puckleberry included.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: Hey, you guys. Things have been going…well, a little nutty here. I've been coming up with so many story ideas, and I can't keep up with them; it always gets hectic. I know some of you guys on agree with me, too._

_Anyway, I am a fan of Joe Hart, obviously. He seems like a really intelligent student at McKinley. I have so much to think about when it comes to him. Speaking of him, he'll see and hear a lot when it comes to this story. It may be confusing to some of you – I'm not really sure – but just bear with me on this okay?_

_So in between "stories" in this fan fic, Joe is basically talking with God and how things have been going. Please…and I'm sincere when I say this – please don't feel offended or anything if I mention this. I will try my hardest not to offend anyone when I'm writing these. If anything offends you, tell me and I can change it._

_In addition, in this story, there will be Finchel, Puckleberry, Brittana, Klaine, Tike, Sugory, Quoe, and Samcedes in this. I won't spoil you that much, but these are the couples – that's all the ones I'll have here in this story; I thought about Wemma, but I wasn't really sure. In this story, you'll see mentions of fairy tales, because I believe some of these characters relate to some fairy tales I think of._

_So, as Harmony – Lindsay Pearce's character on "Glee" – said…sit back, relax, and most importantly…enjoy._

* * *

Hey, are you there, God? It's me again.

_Yes, Joseph Hart. I know all of my children in the world; I never forget any single creation._

Proves how thoughtful you are. I thank you for all you've done, by the way.

_Anything for you and the other pupils of the world. So tell me, Joe, what's on your mind today?_

Nothing much. Well, it's not actually _nothing_. I'd say that it's…well, everything.

_Everything as in…?_

The stuff that happened in my life. In particular, though, my high school life. I've experienced so much in just three years. It's unbelievable. I never knew my mom was up for having me go to public school. She and my dad would always stress the dangers of the outside world, and how I should be more careful.

_Which, by the way, you're being very cautious of._

I try every day, I promise. But…I do understand what they mean. We would listen on the radio sometime around five o'clock, and something about a man being shot, a woman being raped, or even a child being abducted would come up. My mom worries about that every day; I don't blame her.

_A human being dies on any given day, Joe, whether young or old. And these murderers that come into their lives, they can't kill a soul. Sure, they can kill a body, but never the soul. Only I can do so._

Yes, from Matthew, I remember that.

_And those men intruding women's lives – my goodness, there are so many reasons for what they do. Jealousy, fits of anger, drunkenness, rivalry – anything under the sun. Those men with such thoughts or actions of that, they won't succeed into making it to my kingdom._

I understand. You've taught me all of this. Everything about what's going on around me now. In fact, reading the Bible is what calms me. It takes me away from all of this, you know?

_It comes in handy when you're in situations like this._

It really does. And from what I've been seeing here is that, well, there's so many stories to tell here. They really do relate to people in my life.

_The situations they get in in this story – along with the lessons the Bible teaches you – I hope more people will learn about as time progresses. It will get harder each day, whether you're just a child or growing into an adult._

That's why I love reading this; it just teaches me on what's right and wrong, how to handle problems and stuff.

_I'm glad you're learning each day, Joe. It makes me proud._

Speaking of which, I kinda have some stories of my own. I've been writing them in my journal for the past three years I've been in high school. But wait – most of these aren't about me; most are about the friends I've made.

_I've watched you mature into the school you've attended. Let me just say, Joe, you've gotten along with so many people._

I thought I never would. And after learning about these people at my new – well, it's not new anymore –

_Is "former" the right word?_

Pretty much. But after learning about the people I've met at McKinley High School, I've come to realization on one thing: everyone's just so different. Their backgrounds, the drama they get into –

_Not one person is made alike, physically, emotionally, or mentally._

That's the truth.

_You've written all of this in your journal, you say?_

Yeah, I have. My mom wanted me to keep it to write my thoughts in about how I feel about public school. Most of the stuff I write in there are about how I feel about other people – nothing offensive, though.

_Would you really disappoint other people with your thoughts on paper, Joe?_

Never, Father, never. Everyone should be treated with respect. At least, that's how I see it.

_You wouldn't want to be treated terribly. Everyone deserves the right to be happy. But we have so many feelings; we can't stay happy forever._

I see that.

_So what do you write in your journal?_

Just the main issues they're going through, not the deep-down specifics. I don't really write if we sing a group number on one day. I don't really write what we all have for lunch, or who we have in our classes. Mainly the big issues – relationships, friendships, futures – that type of stuff.

_I see._

Everything I saw, heard, thought, and wrote down about these people, I've realized that everyone's story isn't like those fairy tales that younger children would read, you know what I mean?

_Stories such as Cinderella, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty –_

Yeah, those stories. In those, they always have happy endings and stuff like that. No one's story in today's society is really near the level of happy-ending land. Everyone can't be happy at the end; something has to happen, right?

_That is true, yes._

These fairy tales, the characters are nothing like the people I've met. The people I've met live in a different setting – really, a worse one. In fairy tales, there's a mythical creature or somebody they have to defeat, just like today there are bullies in schools. But then at the end, the characters in fairy tales are happy, undefeated – well, not necessarily undefeated –

_Triumphed over the other?_

Yeah, that. But today…well, trouble always comes back. It's weird, you know?

_That goes to show you, Joe. You may think that everyone lives a happy-ending fairy tale; you think they have it made for them and everything's perfect, but it really isn't. Everyone, no matter whether it's a story or real life, has to face an obstacle._

It's astounding just to see what happens next, right?

_Exactly._


	2. Santana: Fighting for Love

_**Fighting for Love**_

_If there's something you want, go get it. Don't question yourself, just get it. Don't let anyone hold you down, just get it. Don't let anyone keep you from it, just get it._

* * *

Father…are you there? It's me, Joseph.

_Yes, Joseph, I am here._

I…I want to ask you about something. Something important.

_Are you having a problem at your new school?_

Well…not really. The people I've met there are really nice. I met three of them. They invited me in this Christian group known as the God Squad.

_Intriguing._

It is. We basically talk about topics related to religion and the Bible. We're sing telegrams on Valentine's Day, and trying to raise money to adopt a highway and start a shoe-drive.

_All of this is for charity?_

Yes. Like the leader of the group, Mercedes said, the God Squad praises good deeds and encourages it to other people.

_That sounds wonderful._

I know, but…but…

_But what? Don't worry about me, Joe. You have my permission to speak your mind._

Okay…I guess. Well…I really don't know how I can really tell you this –

_What's troubling you, son?_

I'm not sure if you would…really agree with me on something.

_On what?_

It's kind of hard to say.

_I understand you're ashamed to tell me, Joe._

Yeah, kind of.

_You don't have to be. Just let out everything you have to say to me, and I give the best advice I can offer._

Are you sure?

_I'm positive._

Well, there's this girl.

_A crush, I assume?_

No, not a crush. She's a friend of the other three God Squad members. She's told me on some occasions her race and ethnicity, and I assume she's a cheerleader – I see all of these girls in red jackets, holding pompons –

_Joe? We can skip those details._

Sorry. Anyway, she came up to us after we sang in the courtyard.

_I see._

And…well, um – how do I say this? – okay, how about this? Imagine that…well, the only fruit you ate were apples, but someone offered you a strawberry. Would you still eat it?

_Joseph, son, why would I not want to try my own creations?_

Yeah, I know. You – geez – you've made everything. It's kind of impossible to say that you wouldn't eat a fruit you've brought into the world.

_And I'm ever glad to have varieties on earth for people to try._

You've made the people!

_Exactly my point._

I'm just saying, in this situation, well…you're _used_ to apples more. I don't know how much further I can explain it.

_Oh…I see._

What do you mean?

_You're ashamed of the fact that this girl you're talking about is a different sexuality. Now, am I right?_

Yeah.

_Joseph, you didn't have to be ashamed to tell me that._

But everyone says that homosexuality is an abomination. And I'm a devoted Christian. Same-sex couples weren't experimented in the Bible from what I read. Not just this, but my father is strictly against it. I don't want to upset this girl, but I don't want to disobey my dad. I'm not sure what to do.

_Joe, do you really have to get other people's opinions to figure out your own?_

Well, yeah. Have you seen my father preach about this stuff in church lately? Every time someone brings up something as against Christianity as sex before marriage, homosexuality, and the _battle_ – that's what he says – between religion and science, he'll go berserk. And he really believes in the opposite – you know, marriage followed by sex, opposite-sex couples, the fact that you, God, caused some events on earth, and not sciences –

_Joe, whose issue is this, yours or your father's?_

I understand, but I'm supposed to honor my mother and father, right? We all are.

_That fact is true, but this situation is all about what you think. Look into your heart, Joe, and figure out what it's trying to tell you._

I'm still not sure. Maybe I should sleep on it.

_That sounds like a good idea for now._

But whichever decision I make, someone's going to be upset at me.

_Oh, I'm sure they won't._

How do you know?

_Your parents, Joe, have to learn that you're an independent thinker. You don't need to rely on other's answers to make your own decision. And this girl you speak of, she can't stay mad at you. You're just having a hard time accessing all of this information._

I think she _will_ still be mad at me.

_And how do you know?_

I…kinda spoke with the principal of the school, and told him about that PDA thing. You know, when I told you earlier about her…and her _girlfriend_ kissing in the hallway.

_I'm sure she won't be._

I really need to think this over. Thank you, God, so much. I couldn't do this without you. Really, I couldn't.

_It's always a pleasure._

Please still look over your other children in the world and make sure they're safe. They need the guidance from you.

_I promise. Goodnight, Joe._

In Jesus' name I pray, amen and goodnight.

* * *

Property of: _Joseph "Joe" Hart_

Date: _February 13__th__, 2012_

Today's just any normal day at McKinley High. Let me tell you, it wasn't much of an easy one yesterday. I had fun performing "Stereo Hearts" still, but…well something just didn't seem right.

This blonde jock named Sam Evans, this dark-skinned girl – I really hope I didn't offend her – named Mercedes Jones, and this blonde, petite girl named Quinn Fabray had my back. They were so wonderfully talented. Sam sure does know how to rap, and Mercedes and Quinn have the voices of heaven angels. They were like soothing heaven angels just coming through my window and singing a lullaby to me straight before I went to bed.

Everyone around us had a good time as well. Girls in cheerleading uniforms and jackets were cheering for us. Random students danced along with us. Some guys offered to play their instruments behind us. The church choir from Mercedes' church sung back-up for us. Even this nice, brunette girl – she went by Rachel Berry – loved our performance. In fact, this performance was for her. Another jock by the name of Finn Hudson requested for us to sing that song to her. She enjoyed it. She even got a chocolate rose out of it. It was that type of Valentine's Day sensation every girl deserved.

As I made it to my locker that day – almost forgot the combination to my locker – I suddenly remembered what had come to me. That girl again. She seemed so interested in our singing. She even paid ten dollars for us to sing to her significant other. That's my main problem these past two days. I'm not sure if I should even be doing it. The girl is…is a _lesbian_. I don't want to be rude to anyone on my first few days of school, but what should I do about my views on homosexuality?

I felt something hard hit me on the back of my head. The object hitting me upside the head hurt a little. I wanted to see who it was – until I _heard_ who it was.

I heard the nickname _Jesus Freak_ come out of a female's mouth. She stared down at me and said, "Hey there, Jesus Freak." I hadn't been this shocked to hear her say that in my life. Just because I love Jesus and God, and I'm a devoted Christian, doesn't mean that I'm a freak for it. If only I had said something. If only I told her what I just thought that second.

"Wheezy wanted me to tell you that she wants to see you, Trouty Mouth, and Stretch Marks after school today," the lesbian teenager quipped at me. I had no idea who she was talking about. Trouty Mouth, I sort of knew because Sam sort of changed the lyrics in the beginning of the song. But…who were _Wheezy_ and _Stretch Marks_?

The girl above me didn't move. She stared down into my soul. She scared me a little. She knew what I was thinking when she looked down at me. I knew she saw my nervous facial expression, I know she did. She's throwing daggers into my eyes. Lord, if I hadn't made it out of here alive, please know that I didn't mean any harm, I really didn't. I just don't know where my mind wants to settle just yet.

"Go on, Teen Jesus," she told me, still giving off that stare, her arms folded in front of her chest. She didn't move an inch; she stood still and kept looking at me. "Go on to your little Bible clique and come up with more schemes to disappoint me." She turned her head, her bag bumping into my head once again, and then she headed off to class. Gosh, she _was_ disappointed. What have I done?

She looked so pleased with our performance, and so eager to get her request out to us so she could sing it for her girlfriend. Oh, did I mention that her girlfriend's name is Brittany S. Pierce? She is a cheerleader like she was, and very pretty like she was. The only difference was that she was dumb – I don't mean that; it's what people like Sam Evans and Finn Hudson have been telling me. I don't use the word _dumb_ because it's rude, but people say that a lot. That lesbian cheerleader – the one that just spoke to me seconds ago – doesn't mind. She cares for her. She agrees with most of what she says.

Help me, God – I do _not_ want to hurt either one of them. They're really sweet when you get to know them and make them happy. But I have a religion to go by, and I can't just break the rules. They probably understand that – well, at least the lesbian cheerleader does – but they think it's unfair, especially since I told Principal Figgins about this.

I got up with my guitar and my backpack, and looked around for the classroom where the God Squad met. Sometimes, I got these hallways mixed up and stuff. Everyone else was so used to it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I've only been here for three days. Sam, Mercedes, and Quinn will help me out with all of this, I'm sure.

I spotted Mercedes waiting at a classroom door. She beckoned me over, and I went in her direction. As I entered the room, Sam and Quinn were already seated, watching me as I walked in. I was kinda nervous; they reminded me of how some students in some of my classes looked at me on my first day here. They always thought something was wrong with me. Must be the clothes, the fact that I didn't wear my sandals, or my hair.

I took a seat in the same spot I sat in the last meeting. I held my guitar in my lap, and placed my backpack on the ground next to me. The other two faced Mercedes as she pounded the gavel on the wooden block next to her on the table. She had concern in her eyes, I know.

"Alright, guys. We need to talk about how the God Squad feels about singing to gay people," she spoke up. I felt a pit in my stomach somewhere, making me hug my guitar and look down in guilt. It's not that I was disgusted about discussing that topic; I was just nervous about what my decision would be.

"Well, three of us are in Glee club, so we pretty much sing to gay people all of the time," Sam spoke up. I didn't know there were more gay people in the school other than Brittany and her girlfriend – although I did see a porcelain-skinned boy and a guy with a lot of gel in his hair share smiles and stuff at the lockers at one point.

Although nodding, Mercedes turned to me, including me in the conversation. "Listen, I know we're up for it," she told Sam, "but Joe may not be."

I really didn't know where I stood on this. People say it's not "normal" for same-sex couples to be together, and others say anyone has the right to be together, no matter what sex they are. This makes me so confused. I don't love is really limited, but I don't know what to think about two males – or in this case, two _females_ – being a couple.

Before anyone took it the wrong way, I spoke up. "I try my best not to judge anybody; but honestly, I've never met anyone who's gay."

"Oh, I guarantee you have."

I don't know if Quinn saw that _never meeting a gay person_ thing to be an excuse for me to not be up for them. Either way, I really did mean it. I've never met anyone gay before I came here to McKinley.

But, from what I learned from Mercedes, no one is really sure.

"One in every ten people are gay," she told me, "and if that's true, then one of the twelve apostles might have been gay." One of the twelve apostles? That can't be. I thought they were all straight. There were things about statistics that really surprised me; it could be anybody. Let's say if they did a test of the people in this room. One in every four people could graduate from college or something – which I'm pretty sure Quinn will do that.

She caught me off guard for a second when she said, "And my guess is Simon, 'cause that name's the gayest." I really tried hard not to chuckle at that, but Mercedes was kinda funny for that.

I turned to Sam just for a second, and he says, "Well, the Bible says it's an abomination for a man to lay down with another man…but we share tents in Cub Scouts and sleep next to each other all the time." I didn't know what Cub Scouts was in particular, but by what Sam was talking about, it sounded bad. "So that would make Cub Scouts an abomination," he finally says when he came into realization.

Quinn starts to speak up next. "You know what else the Bible says is an abomination? Eating lobster, planting crops in the same field, giving someone a _proud_ look? Not an abomination, slavery. Jesus didn't say anything about gay people. That's fact."

In a way, I could agree with that. Jesus really didn't say anything in a sense. People everywhere should be loved…well, it's what I thought after Quinn said that.

"Well, maybe he wanted to, but he didn't want to hurt Simon's feelings." I couldn't stop laughing on the inside. Maybe it was because Mercedes brought up the Simon name being gay, and then Sam joking around with it afterwards. I can't help but think how hilarious people can be.

This was getting really confusing for me, though. I needed to make a right decision before anyone grows mad at me. I can't just not perform altogether. I want to be a part of the God Squad and sing with my friends. It's one of the things that I love to do. And I want to make the Latina girl happy and do something special for her girlfriend. But my thoughts on sexuality when it comes to lesbians and such – well, I'm so uncertain about most things.

I heard Mercedes sigh and turned to her. "We have to know where we stand," she told all of us, "especially if I'm going to ask volunteers at my church to sing back-up for us."

Those guys really do know how to sing. They were brilliant when we did "Stereo Hearts", and I'm positive that they'll be great for when – or if – we perform at the Valentine's Day party, if they're up for it.

"Now, I don't want to hurt Santana's feelings," Mercedes continued, "but I don't want anyone doing something they're not comfortable with." I felt at that moment that this was going to be just as hard for the rest of the God Squad as it is for me. Although they're comfortable with the whole gay thing, I'm not. I've been taught that straight is the way to go. But if I go with not doing it, then that Latina girl – Santana, I believe – will lose three more friends. I don't want that; I want her to be happy. But I need to make a decision.

Speaking of making a decision, all heads turned to me in response to Mercedes' last question. "So where do you stand, Joe?"

I kept looking down at the table, confused and swimming through my own brain to find an answer. My brain just won't work for me today. I really wish I can hurry up and choose something. I fumbled with this for a couple of seconds. Should I perform, or should I not? Should I sacrifice my faith for another student, or sacrifice my God Squad friends' friendship with Santana?

"I guess I need to think about it." That was my last response. I couldn't make up my mind. Maybe when I get home and talk to my parents about this, I could get an answer. My head started to hurt at the moment.

"You know what? That's totally fair," I heard Quinn Fabray say. "You have to look at the hard topics, and be honest and truthful. If you ask me, that's what being Christian is all about." She had some good advice. I was better off thinking about it anyway. I mean, I'm so indecisive – not just in this situation, but in other situations. If it has something to do with being cautious when it comes to religion and a real-life issue like sex, then it wouldn't be that hard.

I spent the rest of the God Squad session thinking about what I should do while Mercedes started up a reading in the book of Mark. I couldn't keep my eyes in the book nor answer a discussion question that Mercedes brought up to the table. I prayed that my mind would do right for this once. I really hoped for it.

* * *

It was pretty much a long, uneventful day. Nothing really happened. I would always focus on my decision on whether I sing for Santana or not. I didn't even pay attention to the kid that upchucked the spaghetti that was served in the cafeteria. Sure, the Chemistry classroom smelled awful; I never focused on that, though. It's not the first time I've encountered someone puking anyway.

After finishing my homework, I ate at the table with my mother and my father. They pretty much have successful lives – well, not one-hundred percent, but it's fairly close. My father is a door-to-door Bible salesman, and makes about one fifty a day, plus about an extra ten or fifteen for every time he works an extra hour or comes early. My mother has multiple jobs at the church. She sometimes helps with the baptismal when someone is absent. She preaches there, too. And there are even times when she gives Bible sessions to teenagers.

I'm blessed for my parents. They work so hard for me. I'm doing good on my own, but they still tend on helping. They just want the very best for me. I understand that. I wouldn't want to live a terrible life for anything in the world. I really hope these people on the streets help themselves and get a wonderful job, doing something they really love.

"Hey sport," my father spoke up before putting a piece of turkey in his mouth. "Why so silent tonight? Something on your mind?"

I really wish he didn't have to ask that. I could've say that nothing was on my mind, but that would be lying – and my mother and father always suspect it, and then stress on how they hate lying. I don't like it when people lie, either. But what am I supposed to say? I couldn't just say, "Hey, I have to sing to gay people on Valentine's Day." They wouldn't allow it.

I took a sip of the lemonade my mother made and then looked up at the both of them. They were still looking at me, and I hardly noticed. I wanted to say the right thing, I really did. My mouth just wouldn't let it out. It was trying to go against me for some odd reason.

"Dad…I'm really trying to process something in my mind right now. It's pretty hard on me."

"Is something wrong at your new school, Joe?" my mother spoke up, and I turned to her all of a sudden. "Is someone bullying you? Are the classes hard?"

Please. If someone was bullying me, I would have a black eye by now. And what she said about classes – half of that's true. I still can't get over these Geometry problems and English passages. This is more than my old study tutor, Miss Ingles, would give me.

"No, not really." I was so reluctant to answering my parents' questions and stuff. But they're going to be so…I don't know; the suspense is pretty much killing me. They kept looking at me, and I was wasting my time with all of this stalling and such. I just had to bring it up.

"Mom, Dad…I need to tell you something."

I know I'm not on a stage or anything like those students from New Directions – the Glee club Mercedes told me about – were on, but this sure does feel like stage fright.

My eyes directed towards my dad first, and then my mom. They both were concerned of me. I didn't want them to know I got into something serious like a rivalry between another student, or some mean football jocks making fun of me. But it was impossible since they thought that was exactly my problem. What was wrong with me? How come I couldn't get out what I wanted to get out?

And then, it came out of me. Naturally.

"I have to sing a love song to someone's girlfriend for Valentine's Day. The only problem is…well, that someone is another girl. They're…well, they're both lesbians. And I know this may be hard for you to hear since you've been teaching me to follow the right paths and all –"

Before I could continue, my father slammed his fork flat on the table. I knew he was mad at me. How could he not? He was one of the many people out there who disapproved of gay couples. I bet about a third – two-thirds, maybe – of people out there don't even realize that gay couples are human just like straight ones.

Me, I don't know what to think. I've never met a gay person until Santana Lopez came in the picture. All of this was coming so fast, and I've only been in public school for two days. My mother told me that a whole lot of stuff was going to be thrown at me when I get exposed to public school. She was right; there's so much that I can't control.

I looked down at my food, embarrassed. That happens most of the time anyway. I can never look my dad in the eye. I fear him about half of the time; I fear God more, but something about my dad sends thunder and lightning down to earth from above. It makes me want to close my ears shut and block out the anger and frustration.

"Seems like you're not taking your own religion seriously, Joe. What's all this about a lesbian couple you're spewing about?"

My mouth was closed shut, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. I still stared down at my food, 'cause my adrenaline might rush if I looked up. I needed someone to help me out here. Santana would just beat the mess out of me, I'm not sure about Brittany, the God Squad isn't here, my teachers and principal wouldn't be able to, God knows about my pastor –

"It's just singing for a couple at Joe's new school," my mother spoke to my father defensively. "It's not like our son is going for another team. And this is a generous thing the God Squad is doing for Valentine's Day. Now, leave the boy alone and let's continue on with dinner."

My eyes almost popped out of my own head. I never knew my mother would have my back in this type of conversation. I thought she always sided with my dad. I mean, a partnership was mostly about supporting each other – well, the majority of the time, from what I'm witnessing.

"He lives under our roof, Maria," the raged man told my mother. "He'll follow his parents' orders. And we're a God-fearing family. We follow our faith. We don't go in the direction of homosexuality."

"Like you said," my mom argued, "he follows his _parents'_ orders. That means the both of us, if you hadn't noticed. I'm a part of this, too, and I fear God as much as the two of you do. But would I make Joe reject doing a service for a friend at school just because of an abomination?"

"Well, since you've been married to me for about sixteen years now – and don't know about the Hart family past from my side of the family – I guess I would need to lecture you more then. Our family has never had not one homosexual man or woman in my family –"

"What does that have to do with singing for –"

My father held his finger up – I could help but look up this time, being that neither one of them were looking at me anymore. "Now, now; let me finish," my father continued. "It's because we didn't have anything to do with this type of abomination – whether it has anything to do with singing for gay couples, or encountering gays or lesbians – that we haven't been a part of this crazy charade."

"It's not a charade; it's still a partnership between two people," my mom added to the dinner-table debate. "They're not aliens like those crazy creatures off of _Eels of the Night_ you've listened to back when you were eighteen!"

Eighteen? They've been together at eighteen? My dad was right that one time we had that discussion about relationships after listening to a radio story.

I really didn't want them to continue on like this; they're my parents. I love them so much, and they shouldn't be arguing like this. This makes it even harder on what my decision should be. My mom doesn't see it as much of a problem, but my dad does. And I should follow their orders like they said. Unfortunately, they're going down different pathways in my perspective. So…which is the right path?

I couldn't listen to anymore arguing. I just took my food into the kitchen and placed the leftovers in the fridge. I washed my plate, silverware, and glass out, listening to them going back and forth still in the dining room. Man, were they going at it or what? I wish there was something to make it okay.

I placed my plate, glass, and silverware in the cupboards and shelves, and then headed on upstairs to my room to finish my work. I couldn't listen to anymore of their shouting and debating. It made my head hurt. At least in my room, it's quiet and I have stuff to think about.

Plus, I can get some of this difficult English done.

* * *

It was about 8:45 – man, time has passed, hasn't it? – and I was sitting on my bed, strumming to my guitar. I loved playing this thing. Acoustic versions of songs are my favorite versions. I like a cappella versions, too, especially after hearing Quinn and Mercedes at another table at lunch one day; they, along with that Rachel Berry girl and Santana Lopez were doing an a cappella version of this song called "Love Story" by a girl named Taylor Swift. They sounded wonderful; I could care less if they were singing a song I knew or not.

I heard a knock at my door. My mother poked her head inside, searching the room for me. "Sweetie, can I come in?" she asked with her sweet, motherly voice.

I placed my guitar down by my night stand, and allowed her to come in the room and sit next to me. She had a slight smile on her face, but she was mostly concerned. I understood that, definitely. She must've witnessed me leaving the downstairs area after that whole bickering nonsense at dinner. I couldn't blame her; I mean, this is my own issue I have to deal with.

"Look, I know you're trying to do something nice for one of your friends at school –"

Immediately, I spoke up to her, making sure she understood that I knew what she was talking about. "Mom, I didn't mean to upset you and dad when those words came out of my mouth. I didn't. It's just that…well, after we performed for Rachel, she came over and seemed pretty impressed. She offered ten dollars in exchange for us singing to her. I really wanted to do something special for her girlfriend, but then I realized that she was actually gay. I didn't mean any harm; I just want an answer to all of –"

Her hand sat on my left shoulder. Was I saying too much? I sounded like it.

"Joe, you didn't upset me," she told me. "In fact, you've made me proud of the fact that you're becoming a generous and wonderful young man." I nodded to that. Almost half of the people in my family – really, the ones I know about – have been telling me that. That's really what I want to be, actually – well, I want a career in something, but you know what I mean.

"You probably don't know much about me then," my mother continued.

The only question that came in the back of my head was, "Is my mom hiding the fact that she's…that?" No. It can't be. And I'd rather not ask her about that; there's no telling whether she might be offended or not.

"I had a friend back in my junior year of high school," my mother started telling her story. "Her name is Paige. On most occasions, I would see her hanging out with another girl named Harriet. At first, I had the assumption that I wasn't her best friend anymore. We hardly talked after school or had lunch together."

I looked down at my lap where my folded hands rested. Wow…my mom used to be best friends with her, and now they're so distant. I never thought that would happen with any of my mother's friends. They all seemed to love her so much, maybe even as much as I do.

I continued listening to the story. My mother took a deep breath and looked straight at my bedroom wall. It must've been hard for her to get these next few words out of her mouth. That was definitely how I felt just a couple of hours ago.

"And then one day, I just had a friendly conversation with Harriet. She seemed like a pretty nice person. She liked about a couple of things that I liked, and some other stuff that was completely different." I nodded. That seemed like any normal conversation that anyone would have.

"And then I ended up telling her about my relationship with me and your father," she continued. "After listening to everything I said, she told me she was in a relationship with someone as well. I asked her who, and…well –"

She didn't even have to finish that sentence for me to figure out who it was. "It was Paige…wasn't it?"

I watched her nod. Although ashamed, she seemed to admit it willingly. "I told my parents about this after church one day, and they were disappointed in me. They haven't talked to me in weeks after that. I was just a confused teenage girl. What was I supposed to think about issues like this anyway? I know I didn't know, that's for sure."

I bit my lip as soon as she said that her parents hadn't talked to her in weeks. I worried that that could be my parents after they heard the news. Maybe my dad would turn out that way, but my mom sure didn't. She stood by me whatever happened to me. I mean, they both did, but my mom could care less about my friends – and their sexuality, I might add – and just wants the best for _me_ right now.

I knew my mother was looking at me. I was so focused on what she just said that I didn't look back at her for the rest of the story. I…I just couldn't believe her parents actually did that. Did her parents even understand her? She wasn't the girl they thought she was.

I felt her hand come to my right shoulder, shaking me a little. I turned to her slowly. "With all the time my parents have been giving me the silent treatment, I took a moment to think about what I was dealing with," she continued. "Just because I spoke with a gay person doesn't mean that I'm actually gay. Paige and Harriet were just friends at school that I hung out with, and they had a wonderful relationship together."

She looked down at my face, turning me around just a little with her hands gripping on my shoulders. "They were best friends. They were girlfriends. They loved each other as friends and as girlfriends. Family members love each other. Significant others love each other. Friends love each other. We love our community. Love is love, Joe; nothing ever changes that."

I _do_ love my mom and dad, along with family members I know and don't know. I _do_ love my friends at school. I love my school. I love my neighbors. Love was everywhere. Love came in different forms, but it was still love. Maybe…maybe my mom was right. It doesn't matter who you love in particular; it's still love.

Now I'm glad we had this talk with my mother. I would've never been able to live with myself if I had disappointed Santana.

I gave my mother a comforting hug, and didn't let go of her. She was so understanding of me. She could even solve the issues that she's never been through before. She was so smart; I sure did believe her when she showed me her grades and honors in her chest in her room.

"Thank you, Mom," I told her. I felt her rubbing my back, her palm pressing onto my dreads which rubbed onto my back. Every time she does that, I feel more comforted than ever.

Her voice sounded muffled, but I could still make out the words she was trying to tell me. "You're welcome, Joe."

I couldn't resist. She was my mom, and I just had to tell her. "I love you."

I felt her squeeze me tighter. I know she did, too. I'm her only son, after all. I've been homeschooled so long, and she wants me to make it out there into the real world. I totally understand her. It's a rough world out there, with so much I don't understand. I know she and dad would help me out.

With a sigh coming out of her mouth, I finally heard her say, "I love you, too, Joe. Make them proud, okay?"

I had the biggest grin on my face. I'm sure when I got to Breadstix on Valentine's Day, Santana and Brittany will have their biggest moment possible. "I promise."

* * *

_And it turned out to be a success, didn't it?_

Mostly, yes. I took a part in the mash-up of "Cherish" by a group called The Association and "Cherish" by someone named Madonna with Sam Evans. And Quinn and Mercedes had solo parts. They sounded beautiful.

_What did those two girls think about it?_

They loved it. They smiled at each other and then at us. They danced together, with Santana in Brittany's arms. They actually looked cute when they hugged, if you ask me.

_I see._

And then after the song ended, they kissed. For some reason, that didn't seem as awkward as I thought it would be.

_Love is love, Joe. You learned that from your mother. Love is the same, even though there are different forms of it._

I thank my mother for this whole night. I would be disappointed to see Santana's angered face if I hadn't sung for her.

_You get much advice from the most helpful people in the world._

I sure do. But, God…there seems to be a problem still.

_With the Valentine's Day party?_

No, with Santana. See, I talked with her about midway with Brittany and the God Squad. Everything was friendly and stuff. And then I told her that I was sorry that I made her upset the other day.

_Go on…_

She accepted my apology and everything, and then wished that people would accept her for who she was. By people…well, she meant her grandmother.

_Her grandmother doesn't accept her?_

No. She even told me of the time when she got kicked out of her grandmother's house after revealing the secret that she was a lesbian. Her grandmother felt uncomfortable, and then didn't want to see her own granddaughter anymore.

_That sounds terrible._

I know. Is there a way that I can help her? Maybe some advice? Go visit her grandmother with her?

_It's all about what you have packed in your brain, Joe. Pick out anything you wish, and then speak with Santana at school and see if you can handle it._

Wouldn't I be getting in her business, though?

_You said you wanted to help her._

A part of me wants to help a friend in need. But…this is her grandmother we're talking about.

_If I were in your footsteps, I'd pitch in with the problem and encourage Santana as much as I can._

Are you sure?

_Of course._

Hmm. Maybe I'll try it. Thanks.

_You're welcome. Get a good night's sleep. You've been up almost all night with that Valentine's Day party. You need your rest._

I will. Keep everyone safe for me, okay?

_Always will, Joe._

In Jesus' name, I pray. Amen and goodnight.

* * *

Property of: _Joseph "Joe" Hart_

Date: _February 15__th__, 2012_

The previous night gave me a lot to think about. I had a lot of fun at the Valentine's Day party and seeing the students of McKinley having a good time. The God Squad was excellent, especially Mercedes and Quinn. I mean, I've gotta admit that other than the hostess, Sugar Motta, and a guy named Blaine Anderson, we were part of the life of the party…I guess that's what you'd say.

Aside from the fun and excitement from last night, there was something else for me to think about – well, it's _someone_ else, actually: Santana Lopez.

You can say that I'm proud of myself for making her and her girlfriend happy. She had the most satisfied facial expression I've ever seen on her. Brittany sure did seem to love it, too. She literally pulled the Latina out of her seat to dance with her. And that kiss…yeah, totally intimate.

I thought about Santana and her grandmother. I know, I haven't actually met her grandmother, nor I probably won't be able to. But I thought about what she could be like. She doesn't seem all I thought she would be, from what I thought. Well, a part of her reminded me of how I thought of all grandmothers: kind, patient, helpful, cooking delicious stuff in the oven, bringing up memories of her past, knitting and stuff – well, they all don't do that, I know; maybe that's just a stereotype of grandmothers I have in the back of my mind.

But then another part of Santana's grandmother, from what I thought last night, was mean. She had this side of her that no one really knew before. She…she had a dark side about certain things – in this case, homosexuality. Like she was a homophobic. Well, not really. Or maybe she could. I don't know. I would've never guessed Santana's grandmother be like that anyway. From what I've heard from Santana at the Valentine's Day party, she reminds me of a mix between Red Riding Hood's grandmother and the big, bad wolf or something.

Was this really it? Was this a messed-up version of a kids' fairy tale…in real life? The pieces fit perfectly like it actually was.

I walked down from my locker to find my class. I still had trouble finding my classes just a little. Once, I thought I had Art at seventh period, but I actually had U.S. History. I turned a corner and headed down the hall…and then stopped. I spotted Santana and Brittany talking at their lockers. Santana seemed to be disappointed for a reason. I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but I had to know what they were saying. Maybe Santana's grandmother was in the conversation.

I leaned against the lockers on the other side of the hallway, making sure the girls didn't see me, and listened in on their conversation.

"Why can't I come over?" Brittany whined. "I thought you wanted to have our evening lady kisses like always." My jaw almost dropped, obviously because the blonde girl mentioned the two of them having evening make-out sessions. Was that even healthy? I mean, the kissing and making out each night type of – well, I wouldn't know anyway; I'm not a girl nor a lesbian. Plus, I plan to stay abstinent until I get married, so for me to know anything about kissing would be unlikely.

"Brittany, my grandmother's coming over our house this evening," Santana answered to her girlfriend, who still seemed upset about the rejection. "My aunt and uncle are coming to town, and she wants to see them. I don't even know if she wants anything to do with me. So for you to come over, too, that would be two times worse in her eyes."

I knew then and there that I had to come up with a solution fast. Her grandmother was coming over Santana's house, and she'll probably shoot one of those angered faces at her own granddaughter. I know that's how my father looked at me the night before Valentine's Day. But that was because my father is super religious. What was Santana's grandmother's purpose?

"Then I can disguise myself as an elderly lady," Brittany suggested. I suddenly looked up again so I can hear on their conversation. "It worked for the Christmas play back in eighth grade, remember?"

I watched as Santana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and people will recognize you like they did for the Christmas play, too." I don't know why, but it sounded like Santana was saying that it was a stupid idea. It sounded like it by her facial and body movements, and the tone in her voice. Brittany's head sunk, ashamed, and Santana lifted it again with her hand by Brittany's chin. "I'm sorry. I just loathe my abuela at the moment."

I thought everyone loved their family members no matter what happened. Guess that there are some people out there that you can't love. I felt Santana's frustration. If I were her, then I'd be pretty mad that my grandmother wouldn't accept me. But at the same time, I'd do something about it. Try to reach into her, at least.

Too bad that I couldn't make out the rest of the conversation. The warning bell had rung, and both girls had split up to their classes. Once they left, I took out a loose leaf sheet of paper and started writing something on there. I wrote a letter to Santana to put on her locker. Luckily I had some tape in my backpack.

The letter went something like this:

_I understand what you're going through, Santana. There are people out there who won't face the fact that things are how they are right now. Life has changed to how it is now, and not one person can change it back; you just have to embrace it. I want to help you. I want to help you teach people to embrace life for what it is. Maybe they can understand how life changed you to what you are now._

_-A Friend For You to Lean On_

It was the best I could do in two minutes. My handwriting was a little sloppy, but I managed to write it so Santana could understand it. I drew a little heart at the end – sometimes, I used that as a symbol of my last name; plus, it was post-Valentine's Day…so why not?

I took the tape out of my backpack, took off a piece, and attached to the letter. I hope Santana got to read it. If she didn't want my help, fine; but she needed someone's help on this problem.

I took the paper and stuck it to the door of Santana's locker, making sure the side with the writing was facing down, and then headed off to class.

* * *

Somewhere around third period, I was walking down the hall, checking over the next round of homework we got from first and second period. As usual, the students in my class complained over this type of stuff. I don't blame them, though. I mean, I know I've only been here for about four days already, but they do have a lot of class work to deal with. Well, this would help me, the teachers say, so I don't mind much.

I had almost passed Santana's locker. She was standing there, reading my note. She had somewhat of a frown on her face. Obviously because she doesn't know who wrote it, I thought in the back of my mind.

I walked a little bit further and stopped, turning around to check and see if she was still reading it. She had written something on it, taped it back to the locker door, and headed to her next class. Class was gonna start in about two minutes. I couldn't stall that much, but I had to see what she wrote.

I darted towards her locker and read her writing.

_Okay, I honestly don't know who you are or what you want, but how are you going to teach me to teach others to accept me? The Glee club accepts me, my parents accept me – hell, I accept me. So what makes you think people don't?_

_-Confused Lesbian Cheerleader_

I couldn't help but chuckle at what she put at the end. I understood she was confused. This was me disguising myself in writing, wanting to help her with her situation. She has every right to give off that perplexed facial expression and ask me these questions. I don't mind at all; but when she realizes my idea worked, then she'll thank me later.

I quickly grabbed the pen from my pocket and wrote under her handwriting.

_I get it. You don't know anything about me, and I don't know anything about you. Sooner or later, you will._

_But I do know that you're facing problems with someone close to you. You want them to love you the same, don't you? Every boy or girl in your situation wants that. They want people to still love them, even if they're…different, you know what I mean? One thing I learned that it doesn't matter what a person does, says, or is described as. You can still show a shred of appreciation for them, at least._

_I know there's someone in your life that you want to say that to. Maybe if you tell me, then I can help you out with this issue you're dealing with and then I can reveal myself later on, if you like. I really want to help you the best I can. Just trust me._

_-Concerned Person Who's Willing to Help You_

I really hoped she would understand what I just wrote. It may not seem clear to her, but she'll know where all of this is headed. I would like to see her happy face again – and no, not that temporary type of happy; the long-lasting happy. The happy where her grandmother can look at her in the eye and say that she still loves her. The happy where she and Brittany can hang out as much as they can and make their relationship work for as long as it can.

By the time I had finished writing, I taped the note to her locker door again and ran to my next class. I knew that I'd probably be late, but it was worth it.

* * *

It was my fifth-period lunch. Thank goodness, 'cause I was starving. Plus, I was getting too distracted about me giving advice to Santana that I wasn't sure how to handle it all at once. I needed a break from work just a moment – not that I didn't want to finish it – and think about what I'm doing.

Was this the right to do? Was Santana understanding this at all? I prayed about this the night of the Valentine's Day party. A part of me thought it was wrong because I felt like I was digging too deep into someone else's life. However, she needed help with this. Sure her mother and father accept her, she told me. But it's like Santana doesn't want her grandmother to love her anymore. Everyone needed as much as love as they deserve. I believe in her, and that's why I did this.

I came out of the boys' bathroom and headed to the lunchroom. Before I made it there, I heard Santana speak with Brittany at the lockers. She was just as confused as before, and wanted an answer at once, it seemed like.

"Britt, have you been writing these?" Santana asked her girlfriend, holding the note in her hands. "I've been receiving notes since this morning. Something to do with helping me with my situation. I figured it was you since –"

The tall, blonde cheerleader shook her head. "No. My handwriting doesn't look like that, Santana. You know it." Then a sudden realization came to her. "What if my leprechaun wrote it?"

Leprechaun? Where in the world did she come up with –

Well, I remember Brittany telling me something about a boy named Rory Flanagan having to do with Santana coming out in the first place. Santana pretty much bullied people before she came out. She was in this group called the Troubletones, and she would say stuff about Rory and Finn Hudson, Rachel's boyfriend.

Santana and the Troubletones attacked the poor guy with dodge balls one time, and his nose bled. Then later on, she said mean stuff about Finn, and then he outed her. That sounded pretty wrong, but Santana pretty much had it coming from what I've heard.

I looked back at the two girls. They were still trying to figure out who wrote the letter. I promised Santana that I'd reveal myself if she'd allow me to help her. All she needed to do was to write something back on the letter and then I can respond to her.

Unfortunately, I lost my luck when I saw her ball the paper up and toss it in the trash. "I'm not going to sit around and solve some stupid mystery like I'm a freakin' female Sherlock," the girl spoke to her girlfriend as she walked down the hall and grabbed Brittany's arm. "Come on. Let's get to Cheerios practice before Coach Sylvester creams us."

I shook my head and watched them leave. I wanted to help her before her family becomes completely separate. Why isn't she letting me help her? I just want her grandmother to get along with her, and nothing more.

I knelt down and placed by heavy backpack on the floor, trying to retrieve my tape, pen, and another loose leaf sheet of paper. I can't stop now. God would want me to do a special duty for a friend in need. Santana was going to need a strong force to get her to change her mind. I scribbled on my sheet of paper, hoping that she would read this next one.

_I know you don't want me messing with you. I completely understand that. But I can't leave you like this. I won't give up until you're complete. You can throw away every sheet of paper you wish. I don't mind. But I'll still be around, wondering why a piece of you is still broken on the inside and asking you these anonymous questions._

_I really want to help you, Santana. I care for you. I care for everyone. I want you to trust me._

_-Unknown Person Waiting for You to Ask for Help_

If this didn't work, then I didn't know what would. I might have to give up at some point or another. I needed Santana to ask for help; I know she needs it. Who wouldn't?

I stuck the note on her locker and headed off to lunch. By the time I got there, I met up with Sam Evans and Mercedes Jones. They seemed to be either flirting with each other or sharing some weird joke. I don't know anything; all I know is that I needed an extra hand – or in this case, _hands_ – to help me out here.

Well, really to help out Santana.

"Hey guys," I spoke as I sat at the table with them. "Can I ask you about something?"

They broke away from their glances and turned to look at me. "Sure, Joe," Mercedes spoke, eating another grape on her tray and folding her hands together. "What's on your mind?"

I looked down at the table. I wanted to get this out as best as possible; but how was I supposed to tell these two that I was sneaking notes to Santana and asking if I could help her with her issues with her grandmother? What if they told Santana what I was doing? What if they thought I was a creep for it? I didn't want them to think that of me. I just wanted to help someone out. I've only been here for a few days, and I want to show people that I can be their friend.

My head lifted and I gazed at the two of them before me. They were waiting on me to say something. I had no other choice but to let it all out.

"Well, you know at the Valentine's Day party when Santana brought up her grandmother in that table conversation?" I asked, in which the two nodded at me. "Well, I wanted to help her. I learned myself that anyone can love whoever they want. I got that experience from home when I had to deal with my parents. I sent some anonymous letters to her, wanting to help her. But she refused to take my advice. So…what can I do?"

Neither answered right away. I know, no one really knew why I was doing this in the first place. I wouldn't say it's a stupid idea, but it's kinda complicated, I'll agree.

"You…you really wanted to do this, Joe?" Mercedes asked me, and I nodded.

I turned to Sam. He didn't have much to say. He…he just shrugged a little. "If I were you, I'd get out of Santana's business, 'cause it's easy to piss her off," he responded. Well, that wasn't much help. I can admit that I'm sorta getting into her business, but I really want to do this, especially after almost making the wrong decision that would've lead to her being upset almost every day.

"But since you really want to do this," Sam added, "maybe an anonymous gathering or something like that. I'm not really sure, dude. I'm not the best in coming up with schemes like this."

"Since when was it a scheme?" I asked him.

Mercedes shook her head and looked at me. "Ignore him, Joe," she said. In the corner of my eye, I could see Sam smirking and tossing his hand, returning back to his food. Yeah, maybe Sam wasn't the best person to ask advice. He still had a good sense of humor, though.

"Look," Mercedes spoke to me, "Santana is a really difficult person. I'm impressed that you want to help her with her situation, but…are you sure you want to risk doing this? You might be caught by Santana one day, and she could –"

"I'd risk anything for my friends," I interrupted. "I've come to realize that I love everyone in McKinley. I thought I would feel uneasy coming here, but then I realized that the people here are really nice. And I want to make some kind of difference while I'm out here in the real world. So I wanted to see if I could help Santana. That's why I did all of this."

Both Mercedes and Sam seemed pretty impressed with what I'm doing. They looked at each other with smiles on their faces, and then they turned to me again. Was that a sign that they wanted to pitch in? That's what it looked like.

"Well," Sam finally spoke up. "I'm in."

That made the smile on my face grow even more.

"Me too," Mercedes agreed. "Just tell me what you want to do."

* * *

It took a couple of hours, but we finally rustled something up at the last few moments. Mercedes and Sam had gotten Quinn, asking her if she knew Santana's home phone number. They then called Santana's mother, discussing everything that I told them, and then asking if they could trick her grandmother and make her come over to the school's choir room.

I took the liberty in asking Santana and Brittany to the choir room for a couple of minutes. Well, I actually told them that Mr. Schue, the Glee club director – I think that's his name – needed to see them, but had to step out to make an errand first. For the time being, we sat in the choir room and did some homework due for the next day.

Twenty-five minutes had already past. I wasn't sure if Mercedes, Sam, and Quinn were still working out things with Santana's mother and grandmother, but the girls were definitely losing their patience.

"Okay, Dreadlocks," the Latina quipped at me. "Where the hell is Mr. Schue? I have other things to do at home; I have no time to be bothered with his nonsense."

I really wish I knew how to answer that question. Sam and Mercedes _were_ sincere in helping me with this mission, right? If they were, they were pretty late. Santana was going run over and tug my dreads out of my head. It's such a buzz kill; that really hurts my head.

I spotted Brittany turn to Santana. "Did Mr. Schue die?" Of course, I just looked at her with this confused look on my face. Brittany wasn't really the smartest crayon in the pack.

Santana grabbed Brittany's arm and started walking to the door. "Look here, Teen Jesus," she told me, not impressed at all. "You must be here to start some practical joke on us. It's not gonna work. We don't play that kiddie crap. We're heading on out of here, whether Mr. Schue likes it or not."

I watched as the girls walked in a pair towards the door. My plan wasn't going so well. They were already frustrated with me, and nothing even happened yet. Mercedes and Sam were right; Santana really was a difficult person. Maybe this idea wasn't my best. I thought then and there that it was better if I head on home and –

"Santana?"

I heard an elderly woman's voice enter the room. Santana and Brittany had stopped in the doorway, eyeing what looked to be Santana's grandmother. The creases in her face deepened as she saw her granddaughter's face. Things looked to heat up. I didn't want to make it any worse; so I went out the door, keeping myself hidden but still listening on to what was going on.

All I could hear at first was Santana interrogating the woman. "Abuela, what are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that," the woman replied, her voice getting more intense. God, I really hoped this worked, but from the sound of things, it may get a little messy in there.

At that moment, I saw the God Squad come over to me, eavesdropping along with me. We all sat on the floor, listening to the conversation in the choir room.

"Did you…did you want to talk with me again, abuela?" Santana asked. There was worry in her voice. Yep, I was right; she definitely needed my help. The next thing I heard Santana say was, "It would mean the world to me if you would just give me a chance –"

"Your mother told me that she wanted to go out before my son and her wife came over," Santana's grandmother barked. "She didn't say anything about me coming here to see you. Santana, I told you before that I don't want to see you anymore. You knew that. Now, why did you –"

"I didn't – abuela, I – I didn't do this," I heard Santana stutter. "I don't know how this happened. I – but can you still –"

"Santana, no!" Santana's grandmother interrupted, her voice rising. "I never want to see you again. I'd rather have a devil's daughter than a –"

"I know you're not used to me being this way," Santana argued, "I know this isn't the Santana Lopez you expect to see. You're free to take me to any straight camp in the world, abuela. But I'm still your granddaughter. I'm in your family. You should be loving me. I love you. Why won't you love me back?"

"You want to know why, Santana? Do you truly want to know why?"

"Yes. Obviously, you've been ignoring me all this time, and I'm trying to reach out to you!"

Wow. Things were getting really tense in there. The two seemed to be yelling back and forth at each other instead of calmly trying to settle things. I wanted to step in and do something about it, but then I'd spoil the surprise for Santana. But something had to be resolved before they start throwing themselves at each other.

And that's when I heard Santana's grandmother yell when my jaw dropped to an ultimate low. "It's _disgusting_ to have a son or daughter that takes interest in people the same sex they are. There, I gave it to you straight. I find it _disgusting_, Santana. You wanted a straight answer, and I'm giving it to you. That's why I've told you that it makes me comfortable. You disgust me. This is not the normal you that I expect to see!"

"What do you mean, _it's not the normal me_?" Santana asked. "It's not like I'm some unusual creature or something; I'm still a human being just like you."

"I don't believe in those types of people, Santana," her grandmother argued. "It was originally Adam and Eve; not Adam and Steve, and Eve and…_Geneva_. Normal girls date guys, not other girls. That's how God created us. You'll go to hell, Santana. You don't realize how serious to me this is!"

I bet that was what my father would've said back before Valentine's Day. Maybe he said that sometime when I was upstairs in my room, and he and my mom were going back and forth in the dining room. I'm not sure how those two were going to handle this situation. They were still yelling at each other, and nothing seems to be getting accomplished. I really needed to step in and do something; I think I caused something more serious than it already is.

Santana sounded like she wanted to cry in there. I heard her tell her grandmother, "Well…well, when you realize that I'm still the same and that my love for Brittany is the same, then I don't want to see you anymore, either." I heard footsteps heading towards the door, which caused the God Squad behind me to move. Before Santana left the room with Brittany, she told her grandmother, "And speaking of hell, why don't you go first?"

Well, that's definitely the worst thing you can tell anyone.

I had started to get up, but Mercedes held me down. I didn't know why she didn't want me to do anything; Santana was about to come out in the hallway and see us. Then we'd definitely be in trouble.

Then Mercedes pointed me in the direction of Santana's mother. She looked way younger than Santana's grandmother. Her hair was longer, too. She had a serious look on her face when she stepped into the room. I, along with the God Squad, continued to listen on to the conversation.

"Mom?" we all heard Santana say. All four of them – Santana, her mother, her grandmother, and her girlfriend – were in the choir room, having some type of family intervention.

"Mother," Santana's mother spoke to Santana's grandmother. "I don't believe what I'm hearing."

"What do you know about all of this?" Santana's grandmother asked.

"Mom, do you hear what she's trying to say to me?" Santana asked. She sounded so desperate in there. I don't blame her, though.

"If you hadn't noticed, this is your granddaughter," Santana's mother spoke. "She loves you for who you are. All she's asking for is your acceptance and your love, two simple things in the world; yet you won't even give her that!"

"I've told the both of you," Santana's grandmother said. "I disapprove of all of this, and there's nothing you can do to make me change my mind about this."

"Maybe there is," Santana's mother spoke.

I'm glad Sam and Mercedes brought her here. Maybe Santana's mother was capable of handling this situation more than all of us put together.

"You wouldn't live with yourself if you knew your daughter accepted gay people, right?" Santana's mother asked, which her grandmother replied with a yes. "Well, I do. In fact, you're in the middle of a family that sees nothing wrong with who's with you. So technically, you're the odd one out."

"What does that mean?"

"Santana's aunt and uncle do, her father does, her grandfather –"

Santana's grandmother gasped in shocked. "No, he doesn't. You have no right to –"

"I may not, but I do have the right to still love my own daughter even though she likes girls. And clearly, she and Brittany have a wonderful relationship together. They've been friends for a very long time, even before Santana came out. They stuck by each other, helped each other, defended each other. Isn't that what relationships should be about, and not what the sex of the other person is?"

There was a sudden silence. I don't why, but I sensed that Santana's grandmother was feeling some sort of guilt. Why, though? Why wasn't she saying anything? Why wasn't _anyone_ saying anything, I should ask.

"Mrs. Lopez," I heard Brittany say. "I just wanted to say that I feel as normal being with Santana as I am with any guy I've been with. Well, I've been with almost every guy in this school –"

"_Brittany, sex doesn't count as dating, remember?_"

I almost couldn't hear that at first. That made me shocked for a moment. Brittany actually…had sex with every guy in the school? That's impossible, though. I just hope ninety-seven percent of boys in the school have some type of disease or something like that, especially coming from someone that seems as innocent as Brittany.

Or maybe Brittany's the one with the diseases. I don't know. Like I said before about kissing, I don't know much about sex, either.

"But girls being with other girls is still normal," Brittany continued. "Sure, the other girl may not have a…a…you know what I mean. Still, they care for each other like guys would. Well, there are guys out there that don't even care, but I'm sure you know what I mean, right?"

There was another pause. That was a wonderful set of words coming out of Brittany's mouth, even if she was absent-minded and seemed to not be a girl of words.

I heard sniffles come out of Santana's grandmother's nose. What was going on? If only I could go in there and see, but the God Squad was holding me down so they could hear what was going on in there. I got a little impatient, and my legs were killing me.

"I…" I heard Santana's grandmother speak. "I have something to tell you, Santana. Your grandfather…your grandfather left me…for another man."

What? That's what this was about? No wonder she was mad at Santana all this time.

"He did what?" I heard Santana ask.

"He's been hiding his sexuality from me all of this time, Santana," her grandmother continued. "We had been married all this time, and he has never told me this. He said this was a secret he had been killing himself with to keep. Do you…do you remember what I've been telling you about secrets? This is what I mean."

Santana gaped. "So…so, he didn't want to _be_ with you?"

"No. He left one day after realizing that I've been quiet all night, leaving a note along with his wedding ring. That all happened seven years ago."

The God Squad must've saw my jaw drop again. Mercedes made sure my mouth was shut, because we could be revealed at some point and then get in trouble by Santana. I tried so hard to keep my mouth shut and my body still. But I couldn't believe what I was hearing coming out of Santana's grandmother's mouth.

"It…it has been seven years since you've been alone, abuela?" Santana asked.

"Yes, it has," Santana's grandmother responded. "All because my own husband played for another team. That was the day that I've hated same-sex couples, and felt angered that people can turn on you like that. That's why I've been angry when I found out about you."

All of the pieces were fitting together. My gosh, I couldn't believe the drama. Poor Santana didn't know about all of this until now. I only wondered what her face looked like when she had to hear all of that.

"But abuela," Santana spoke, "you don't need anyone to make you feel happy each day. You're already wonderful and amazing. And I know before you hated same-sex couples because of my grandfather, but…they love just the same as straight ones. You just don't realize it yet because you've never witnessed it before, nor felt what it was like."

I only nodded to that comment. I mean, that seemed like a pretty logical explanation to why she hasn't gotten used to people like Santana.

Then I heard Santana say, "Just do me a solid and allow me back into your life. A different Santana Lopez. The one that's not mad at the world or anything like that. The one that's madly in love with this beautiful girl that seemed to have fallen from heaven and given me a life. You'll realize how normal our relationship is like yours with my abuelo. I promise."

I felt some sort of good feeling in my body. I thought this plan wasn't going to work at first; but now that I've taken a stab at it, I feel better about helping her. This made me wonderful if she still remembers the notes I've been leaving at her locker and such. Maybe she still does. I don't know.

"And…I promise, too, Santana."

I knew Sam, Mercedes, and Quinn were grinning behind me. I heard Santana cheering inside. That was definitely progress made in my book.

I then heard something about them heading off to Santana's house for that family get-together Santana and Brittany were talking about at the lockers earlier. Just when they stepped into the hallway, I and the God Squad stepped into the choir room, cheering silently so they couldn't hear us.

"_Joe, you did it_," Mercedes told me, gripping my arm and grinning from ear to ear.

"_Dude, I didn't think you could pull it off_," Sam whispered.

"_This was a pretty clever idea you've had, Joe_," Quinn added.

"_Hey, I couldn't do it without you guys' help_," I whispered back.

We were all so glad in pitching in with the dilemma, we didn't even notice Santana walk back in the room to retrieve her backpack that was sitting on the bench by the piano. She stood there at the entrance, her bag hanging over her right shoulder, and her jaw dropping off her face.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked. We all frantically turned around and saw the Latina before our eyes. There was no hiding from this; we had to tell her before she got suspicious.

"So it looks like things with your grandmother worked out, huh?" Sam asked with a satisfied look on his face.

Santana looked more confused than ever. She had no idea what Sam was talking about. "What do you mean?" she asked. "How did you know about me and my grandmother?"

Quinn stepped up and pointed to me. "It was all Joe," she spoke. "He was concerned about your relationship with her, and asked for our help. Guess the God Squad is more than a group full of Bible thumpers. Right, Santana?"

Once Quinn said my name, I got a little bashful at the moment. I knew she was going to hit me in the face, swear into my soul, or pull out my hair at any second. It wouldn't matter to me much, really. The problem has already been solved, and Santana's relationship with her grandmother has been restored. She can throw anything at me, but she's gonna have to admit sometime that the plan worked.

I looked ahead at her. She didn't do anything. She wasn't running over to punch me in the jaw or anything; she just…nodded. That was a twist – a good one, but still a twist.

"Well…" Santana spoke to me, "maybe you're more of a Teen Jesus than people say you are." She sounded impressed by her words. She must think I'm slick or something. I don't, but I did kinda sneak behind her with all that's happened. Still, I'm glad she's happy and things worked out with her. I couldn't ask for anything more.

* * *

_That's quite a story, Joe._

I know. It took a lot for all of that to happen, but Santana and her grandmother are working out things just fine.

_So, now what are you going to do?_

I don't know. Just live life, I guess. Maybe life will throw out another problem for me to solve. Either way, it's going to be solved.

_You're really a thoughtful, wonderful young man, Joe._

Thank you so much. I owe it to you, too. It took a lot of praying for me to figure this whole thing out.

_Well, that's true. Now, go on and get your rest. You need plenty of it._

I need your prayers just as much. Thanks for your help again.

_Have a good night's sleep, Joe._

In Jesus' name, I pray. Amen and goodnight.


End file.
